A Walk In The Snow: A Meditative Winter Journey

A walk in the snow.

The world was quiet beneath the snow.

Each step pressed into the fresh powder,

A satisfying crunch breaking the silence before it was swallowed up again.

The cold air burned slightly with each breath,

Crisp and clean,

Carrying the scent of ice and pine.

Above you,

The sky stretches pale and endless,

The heavy clouds still drifting,

Releasing flurries that spiralled lazily to the ground.

The trees stood motionless,

Their bare branches lined with frost,

Bending ever so slightly under the weight of winter.

The path wound forward,

Vanishing into the white haze of falling snow.

Each step left a fleeting imprint,

Only for the wind to drift fine layers of powder over them,

As if erasing the proof of passage.

Footsteps didn't last long in a world like this.

A frozen creek lay ahead,

Its surface glassy and cracked in places,

Revealing dark water beneath.

The ice hummed softly in the cold,

Shifting with unseen movement below.

Snow had gathered around the edges,

Smoothing the sharp rocks into gentle,

Rounded forms.

The stillness was vast,

It pressed in from all sides,

Filling the air with a quiet so deep it felt almost sacred.

The walk continued,

Winding through the silent landscape.

The world was untouched,

Endless and calm,

Just snow,

Sky and the quiet rhythm of movement through the cold.